Poorly Brewed? Nonsense!
by spottedball
Summary: Unctuous Unction, a potion invented to convince an enemy that the giver is their best friend. Harry brews a bad batch of potion that is of course, handed back to him by Malfoy. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Unctuous Unction

Chapter One-

Authors note- Parts of the sixth book dismissed in the name of plot. My plot.

Warnings- Slashy, Bitter Dean Thomas, Cliché use of potions class.

And just for good assurance I would like you all to know that I am not in fact, JKR. I am, in actuality, a rougish American. Just think about how far we have come in the last month where I feel secure enough to admit that just now.

0o0o-

The air smelt of dirt and water boiling; two smells which even separate were unnerving enough. Together they intertwined their fingertips like sisters, irritable sisters that were now found together gossiping over tea sandwiches; soft, uneasy and repulsive.

The gag reflex that Harry regularly found he needed to check, set off for something like the fourteenth time in an hour. Hermione watched him choke dismissively. "Oh really Harry, pinch your nose."

Harry looked down at the potion he found himself stirring, thick and bubbling and thought that to pinch his nose would require giving up on moving the potion at all. "Is it supposed to look like this 'Mione?"

"Er, yes."

Harry looked up to find Hermione's nose buried deep in her book. Looking back at his potion he reasoned that she had probably not checked his at all. "Oh," The potion gave a great bubbling gulp, surging up over the side and over the toe of his trainer, "ok then." His eyes wandered distractedly as he rubbed his foot against the table leg. Pavarti Patil, partnered with Neville Longbottom appeared to be suffering some sort of breakdown. Her soft brown fists were in tight balls at her sides, her eyes though seen from a full room away, looked red. Ron, though closer was presenting his back to Harry as he was rubbing a knife over the end of a half spliced breathing turnip. His partner Seamus seemed to be equally inclined, staring off into space and sighing as their potion evaporated slowly. Snape had never, in all of his years teaching them set such a difficult brew for the first lesson of the year. Harry cast a peak at what was their own Unctuous Unction, a potion that was developed in the middle ages and supposed to convince the receiver that the giver was their best friend. Harry ginned slightly, wondering what on earth his thick potion would convince someone of if her presented it to them. Probably that he _hated _them and that the world was cold, empty place, free of love and happiness.

"I. Can't. Turn. It. Clockwise-" Startled Harry looked at his own partner Dean, attempting to push the spoon through their sloppily prepared draught.

"Yeah, I think we might have to hang the towel on this one."

Dean looked back at him, panic etched into his once carefree eyes. "Potter, this is only the first one of the year!" Harry watched as Dean's potion heavy spoon touched the reference book. "I said I didn't mind being partners but I can't fail N.E.W.T level potions! Me Mam would murder me."

Harry sighed and pressed his fingertips to the edge of his nose. "Dean it's ok. I'm sure Snape will allow us to make it up."

Perhaps Dean was looking more than a little skeptical when Snape himself overtook them in their desperate fixing efforts. He paused in his stride to sneer down at them from behind a curtain of ever greasy hair. "Unprepared and poorly represented? It must be September Potter."

Harry tried very hard not grimace. Dean's misery was less succinct; he howled in an animal like misery that made half of the room jump. "This is just great! I'm partnered with Potter for the year! Not only will I fail every examination but I'll be bullied and suspected just for going near him. Professor this is unfair, he's a curse!"

Snape's lips twitched at this act of Gryffindor disloyalty. His small dark eyes turned on his. Harry swallowed, hard, clamping down the urge to seize the spoon and belt the greasy man with it. "Indeed, and what have you to say for yourself Mr. Potter. It appears the time has finally come where you have begun repulse even your own kind." Somewhere to the near left of him, Harry heard Draco Malfoy laugh softly.

"Professor, if you gave us some extra time to make it up,"

"-and why, Potter, would I grant you any special treatment. The rest of the class has not been given extra time and so I see no need to award you such." Snape smiled softly.

Harry felt his stomach churn, annoyance heightened by Dean's flustered sighs, "Could we write a paper?"

Snape sneered silkily, "I've been asking myself that very same question for years." A commencement of hearty Slytherin laughter rang in Harry's ears, which began to warm. Snape moved past them and commented idly that Hermione's potion was, "Passable."

Dean, shooting murderous sidelong looks at Harry began to put away their ingredients. Harry sighed and stuffed the books in his bag. The bell tolled in the hallway and there was a ruckus of eager students hanging about the door. Dean waved his wand and emptied the cauldron with his wand, "Useless!" Shoving his wand in his bag Dean thrust his back pack on his shoulder and snagged his book off the desk, disrupting Harry's supplies there, scattering papers and knocking the wet spoon across the floor. Dean moved past Harry and disappeared into crowd. Flushing, Harry bent over and pushed the papers back in his bag. Laughter behind him made him stiffen.

"Missed this Potter-" Harry turned and saw Malfoy, eyes glinting, holding the potions spoon. He inspected the mess on the end and laughed nastily. "Have it back then." Bringing the spoon down through the air, Harry was showered in spittle like potion.

Ron cussed. "Leave off Malfoy!" Eyes shining pointedly, Malfoy gave Harry one final look before leaving the dungeon. Ron leant down and helped Harry to his feet. "Hey. Don't worry Harry. Thing's get easier."

Harry nodded absently, shaking his head. What had he been thinking about? Snape? Dean? Malfoy?

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes snapped back onto his friend. "Yeah?"

"Are you alright mate? It's was only Malfoy."

Harry wiped his face, thinking he was beginning to feel lightheaded. "I'm fine." There was a strange lurch in his stomach. One that felt fleetingly high before Harry suddenly began to feel physically nauseous.

"Do you want to sit down?" Ron's face was a mask of worry.

Harry, hands still clutching his chest shook his head. "I'm fine. Lets just get to the great hall."

Ron followed him out of the room, an uncharacteristic worry evident in his eyes. Harry stumbled along, doing his best to remain walking evenly. A real fear leapt up in his chest. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Something that made him feel ghostly and thin, as though his flesh were missing. Shivering Harry took his seat at the Gryffindor table. Beside him he could hear Ron conversing with Hermione, but the content was unimportant to him; "Dunno, something just came over him in Potions."

"When? Was it Professor-"

"Nah, he seemed fine until the bell rang."

"Did you ask him what was wrong."

"He say's he is fine. I think Malfoy said something but who cares what Malfoy says?"

Malfoy. Harry felt his stomach clench. Eyes flipping up, he caught sight of the blonde as he sat at the Slytherin table. His grey eyes were narrowed and intent on Parkinson who was whispering something to the group. Something inside him whispered viciously. The light fell on Draco's hair softly and Harry found himself resolutely transfixed. Blinking stupidly, he followed the line of Malfoy's aristocratic nose, his long fingers working his fork and knife in what was likely the stiff if not pompous table etiquette taught by his mother, his face a blaze of haughty indifference. Leaning forward onto the table, Harry let his eyes wonder lower, his pressed school shirt and his tie resolutely uniform, though he wore them well tucked under his Hogwarts sweater. The black fabric moved with him as he leaned away from Pansy laughing disdainfully. "Harry?"

Harry jumped a foot out of his seat, Malfoy's eyes flicked over to their table and Harry only barely managed to rip his away before he was caught positively leering. "Harry, are you feeling well?" Hermione's kind eyes implored him.

"No." Malfoy was watching them talking now. "I don't feel well."

0-0-0

Harry took refuge in the fact the History of Magic class involved very little studying. The effort put fort to look attentive was nothing less than sleeping and students sometimes failed in that. This was a good thing for Harry because as it was he did not think he would be able to concentrate. Smothered in between Ron and Hermione's thick fall cloaks he occupied the middle of the desk and surrounded as he was he felt, for the moment safe. He was not sure what he was afraid of but he was positive it involved Malfoy and that Malfoy, whether he knew it or not currently exercised some kind of horrific interest in Harry. Harry himself was disgusted. How could this have happened? The thought of Malfoy made him sweat in the most intriguing way, like fear mixed with a kind of reckless desire. He knew this feeling but could find no word for it except perhaps misplaced. Whatever the emotion was he was positive he shouldn't have it for Malfoy. He. Malfoy, at the moment occupied a desk several feet to their left over Hermione's head and Harry, biting his lip hard, did his best not to look at him.

He looked at professor Binns for a time but that soon lost it's hold so he began to examine his notebook which, being new, had little interest to supply. He gazed intently at Ron, whose nose was very red. He wondered how Hermione brushed her hair, though it looked very soft. He considered throwing things at the twins in front of him, anything to keep from looking at Malfoy, who was making paper planes. He watched his reflection in the window, thinking that he was at least not looking at the actual boy. Malfoy took turns ripping Crabbe's parchment into sizable squares and massaging them into triangles, then eventually into flying contraptions. Goyle watched them entranced as they hovered at book level and Malfoy sighed leaning back in his chair. Any attempts now to extract his eyes from the scene would be ignored. Swallowing, he observed Malfoy's immaculate hair, the silver wrist band of a watch, a detail he had never before noticed gleamed where his robes met his arm in a perfectly tailored size.

Ron sighed and Harry's eyes flicked for a moment back onto his face. Ron was spotted and sleepy in the hazy reflective world of the window. Draco tilted his head back slightly, eyes absently tracing the outline of Binns's desk. Harry watched Malfoy's throat as he swallowed, his own pulse quickening with the bob of Draco's Addams apple. Unwilling to look anywhere else Harry closed his eyes and breathed. He wished he could be away from the room. He wished he could be in his dormitory, ensconced in darkness where he might think about this logically. What sudden change had come over him? What dreaded obsession had he formed in the course of only two hours? Something must have formed it, something that Harry couldn't rightly remember. Breakfast, Snape, Dean, and potions.

He froze, his muscles taut. Potions where they had made Unctuous Unction. Could someone have slipped him some? The potion had to be given to work so surely someone had given it to him. Someone being Malfoy. He opened his eyes and looked at his quill earnestly. Yes. Malfoy could have given it to him, that would certainly explain why he seemed to feel so favorable toward him at the moment. Yet, even as he thought it his heart began to race. Slowly he traces a finger over his face and taking it away looked at his fingers intently, remembering the sling of his own brew from the spoon. His hands shook at the thought of what his awful potion might be doing to him even now.

"Harry?" Harry's eyes flew open. "Did you hear the class leaving?" Both Ron and Hermione were looking at him.

"Oh yeah." Harry stood, still feeling more than a little absent.

"Harry, maybe you should get some rest." Hermione smiled soothingly. "We can bring you some dinner."

Harry agreed readily, amazed at the speed of his speech. "You go ahead, I'll meet you back in the tower." In his mind he knew he had at least one stop off before reaching it himself.

0o0o-

About the potions... I did warn you about the tired use of potions. Thoughts and comments much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

a/n- It should be noted this will probably be one of the last chapters from Harry's POV for a while. The next chapters are largely about Draco realizing that something is decidedly wrong. What would a Slytherin to do to his worst enemy?

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. If this seems to generate interest I will start updating frequently.

-o-o-

The library was the place to be in times of need because it was both quiet and likely to supply a nervous mind with information on whatever misfortune had afflicted them. This was of course, assuming that the student knew how to work the card catalog or was in the possession of the kind of manly courage that was necessary to approach Madame Pince. Harry found that at the moment, he was neither and though he sensed he was surrounded by enough books to solve his problem, the sheer volume of them seemed to impress into him uselessness. He sat down against a bench and started at the shelves.

Where to start, he found was the question. Once he had made a dent he might find the ambition to carry on. The grounds outside were already beginning to darken and for a moment Harry considered going to Snape. The moment soon passed and Harry wondered whether or not the potion might have effects on his sanity. Snape would laugh him straight out of his office. Feeling suddenly afraid and more than a little foolish he leaned against the wall, devising himself a mental plan.

Of all things he was sure he must stay away from Malfoy. That was simply evident, although a rumble in his stomach that he didn't think had anything to do with food followed this realization. The second step would be to find some books on the subject of- but what exactly was this? Not a love potion, though he was certainly aware that sensations that should never have been felt were certainly heightened. Nor was it Unctuous Unction in the sense that the book had laid out. Unctuous Unction was supposed to convince a drinker that the giver was a friend, it wasn't supposed to make them blurry eyed and flushed. His second step therefore should be to reveal all to Hermione. Something stopped him before he could decide to tell her though, whether it was some based on a nasty effect of the potion or some shred of embarrassment Harry found he did not particularly wish to tell this story unless he was forced to and he would be forced to account for it if he told her.

Collecting himself nicely, Harry was preparing to browse the potions shelves when a soft swish of feet on carpet made Harry lift his eyes. Between the bookshelves like some strange joke was Draco Malfoy. He walked purposefully, not yet aware of Harry's presence. Rather than feel the terror that Harry supposed he should considering the level of embarrassment and manipulation he might endure at the hands of Malfoy were the effects of the potion known, he felt the urge to laugh bubble up inside him tumultuously. He did so, making a fist in the material of his pants as he did so.

Malfoy's head jerked up at the sound and Harry found that did nothing to silence him. Giggling into his shirt Harry could barely meet his eyes. Malfoy watched him with a sneer. "Laughing _at_ yourself Potter?"

Harry noticed with a terrific swoop that Malfoy seemed unnerved. Then without much warning the humor of the situation seemed to falter and Harry found himself alone with Malfoy and his curled lip. Harry wondered at the expression before tilting his head to the side and grinning. This time Malfoy actually glanced over his shoulder as if expecting to find Ron there yielding a mallet. "Good lord Potter, you look a fright."

Harry could only guess. "But you look marvelous as always Malfoy." Harry winced, two very separate voices fighting within him; reason and the lively potion that seemed to be turning his thoughts into sentences.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "What was that?"

"Only that you look smashing. Completely put together. I love your hair." Harry was not sure what world these words had wandered off his tongue from, only that he was completely and totally taken with Malfoy's complexion.

"What is _that _supposed to mean?" Malfoy was looking at him now as though he had multiple heads and Harry, in complete adversity to what he had felt that morning or ever before in his life found himself if not taken in, completely enthralled by Malfoy's lips.

"I-uhm-" Harry groped for something that wouldn't make him sound disturbed, "I want you."

Malfoy blinked.

"And by you, of course, I mean your pants." He had turned into a babbling idiot. A creepy blushing idiot. At this point however, Harry was beginning to think that his best bet was to play this sentence up with utmost sincerity and hope Malfoy took it for sarcasm. Malfoy seemed to agree with Harry's sense of horror and promptly shrunk away from him, though his eyes remained on Harry.

"What the hell did you bump your head on Potter?"

"Your face Malfoy." Harry pulled back against the wall wishing with all the force his reasonable brain could muster that he could escape. Never in his life had he been a good liar and never had he been able to hide his feelings well. They showed on his face and even though what he was feeling had to be completely made up or from a bottle, he was feeling it as well as he might if it had been real.

Malfoy scowled, wrinkling his nose in a most unattractive way. "That is absolutely disgusting Potter."

On the outside it was nothing more than a normal exchange but judging by the light pink flush across his nose and cheeks Harry felt he had hit a nerve. A compulsive need ran through him to discover what it might have been, one he attributed to the potion entirely. "Come on Malfoy, don't tell me you don't think about it."

Malfoy's entire frame froze, their eyes locked and Malfoy's were so cold Harry almost flinched away. "What the hell are you insinuating Potter?"

"Only that you'd like to bump heads is all."

Malfoy was sneering in such a way his words came out with a bite. "What does that even mean?"

Harry was loosing his head completely, Malfoy's presence drowning rationality. Harry's eyes were fickle, the easiest way of seeing into this madness and Harry realized even as he was doing it that his eyes had dropped from eye level, taking in other lower extremities. The sneer on Malfoy's face was frozen there as his eyes followed Harry's on a path down his own body. Harry thought his breathing looked a little uneven when the very near sound of Pince and her feather duster seemed to wake them. Malfoy jolted to movement, his face a mixture of disgust and something else less readable. Muttering profanities he hastened back around the corner of the shelf and left Harry to his potions induced nightmare.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

a/n- This chapter kind of establishes tension and sets up Draco, (who by the way I would appreciate input on. Did I make the character too mean?)

Author is also aware that Marcus Belbey has most probably graduated and that Harry gave up care of Magical Creatures.

Draco Malfoy was many things; he was assertive, self confident and more than a little intelligent, among many things he at least knew enough to know when he was being fucked with which he most certainly was. Either that or Potter had finally lost his magically addled mind.

Thunk. The tiny ball in his hand knocked off of his wooden bedpost. In the bed next to him he heard Theodore Nott stir, annoyed but not quite awake enough to be assed into saying anything. Draco lay flat on his back, his hangings loose about him, still fully clothed. Why? Because he was annoyed, unsettled and maybe a little anxious. Not enough to force any stressed or unusual sentence out of him in the common room. That would have been foolish, but now that he was alone he found his thoughts were troubled because what in the bloody hell had that been? How long had Potter been around the bend? Thunk. Because he was. Potter had watched him all day relentlessly as though hoping to catch him in some illegal act. What could they be planning now? Why did they feel the need to watch him, Thunk, as though he cared what stupid Gryffindor cock up they were planning. Thunk. But Potter hadn't just been watching him in the library. Draco felt his cheeks glow. Potter had looked more like he was mentally undressing him than anything. Thunk, Thunk, Thunk. He attempted to convey his sudden embarrassment into the ball against his headboard.

To the left of him as though muffled through a mouth of sheets, "Hey Malfoy?"

Malfoy paused, ball in hand. He noticed even in the dark that it shook slightly. "What do you want Theo?"

"Would you quit bouncing that fucking ball?"

Draco sneered.

0-0-0

Breakfast that morning could not have been subdued under the influence of magic. The Quiddich schedule had finally been made public and the Gryffindor Vs. Slytherin match was poised to fill the first weekend of November with a sense of hatred no matter what the outcome of the game. From his place at the Slytherin table, Draco was only actively aware of one thing, that the match was a full three weeks sooner this year that it had been the year before. A coincidence? His eyes sought the Gryffindor table and a pair of green eyes that were already facing his seat. He thought not.

"Oh Draco, I simply know that you'll win this year." Pansy simpered, biting off her toast in what she hoped passed as easy elegance. Draco ignored her and poured his coffee feeling as though the forces around him were conspiring. He noticed Granger bending over to whisper something to Potter, who nodded, his green eyes still turned toward Draco. "You would have won it last year of course, if the Gryffindors hadn't cheated something awful during and after the match. I can hardly believe McGonagall is letting him play again this year."

Draco shrugged lightly. By him she meant Potter and by surprised she meant angry. This was a subject he normally might have joined eagerly if he hadn't been so busy trying to watch the golden boy over Pansy's shoulder. "Malfoy!" He jumped a little in his seat and wheeled about to face Marcus Belbey the Slytherin team captain who had wormed his way down the table. He was clutching the written copy of the games in one of his wide top hat hands. He was looking at him expectantly and Malfoy detested the smugness of it.

"I've heard." He noted dryly, noting that Belbey had yet to present him with the paper. "I wonder what kind of dealing the Gryffindors had to do to get a game before we could even properly form a team?"

Belbey chuckled at that. "Well Potter's the new captain, we all know what kind of connections he's got."

Draco attempted to avoid this. An anger was beginning to ignite. Could this be what they were planning? To throw him off guard and snatch the game for the fifth year in a row? How juvenile really…

"Oh Draco, does it matter that much?" Pansy was looking at him now with a measure of concern.

Sneering he attempted to regain some recognizable facial fixture. "Please Pansy."

But it did matter. It mattered in Herbology when Millicent, shocked by a fanged plants swipe at her bottom attempted to beat the living piss out of it. He could hardly even bring himself to smile when Neville Longbottom tripped and slid down the mud strewn lawn toward Hagrid's hut and it especially mattered when Harry himself was more than once during Hagrid's lecture more interested in Draco's doings than that of the large spider like creatures being shown. He sat on his cloak on the grass underneath the apple tree near the spider's fencing with his hood drawn looking sulky, green eyes methodically swishing over to check that Malfoy had not moved. During the middle of the lesson it began to rain and Potter lifted up his cold damp hands and wiped them on his cloak the way an elementary student might on his trousers. Draco had to quell the urge to scream.

As the rain picked up the students pushed closer around the tree, some of them glaring at Hagrid who seemed oblivious and therefore unlikely to call the lesson short. Draco found himself jostled closer as the lesson continued until he was behind him. Draco took a moment to look at Potter's hair, made frightful by the wind and water. It was the kind that was probably softer than it looked. Hermione Granger sat down softly by Harry's side and immediately started in, "Are you cold Harry, you still look sick."

Draco winced when Hermione tucked a lock of Potter's rain soaked hair behind his ear. A heat came up in Draco's neck because Harry wasn't sick. He had been just fine the night before when he was harassing him. Before he knew what he was doing he had kicked the sitting boy, hissing, "Who did you have to bugger to get that game in Potter?"

Potter and Granger both turned to stare at him; Hermione looked angry but Harry was unreadable. He blinked slowly and then asked, "What are you talking about Malfoy."

"I'm talking about your early season Quidditch match." He sneered, "What, did you think you could just sneak it in there and catch us before we started training?" Harry blinked again, his eyes going over a bit hazy. Surely Potter wouldn't stare at him here? "I'm going to catch that snitch Potter-" he snarled, aware that people were beginning to stare at him, "No matter what you do to throw me off."

0-0-0

"Where are you going Draco?"

Draco was walking purposefully towards the library and having Pansy follow him did not much suit his taste. "I'm going to go do a paper Pans, I'll be back later."

Pansy, who had leapt off of the couch when she spotted him moving finally intercepted him. "Do you want me to come with you?" She leaned into him and he took it to mean that she had no intention of helping him with his homework. As if she could, he thought idly, fingering the cuff of his shirt.

"Not now Pansy, I've got a whole roll to write for Snape that's due tomorrow."

"Oh," she pouted, looking pathetically dejected, "are you sure it's not Potter?"

Draco froze and he felt his lip curl automatically. "What does Potter have to do with anything?"

Pansy flinched back a little. "I don't know, it just seems like he's really been getting to you lately."

"Well he's not-" he looked at the incredulous look on Pansy's face and snatched her wrist, dragging her after him, spitting out, "Come on."

She stumbled a little in surprise but Draco didn't slow at all, he let go of her wrist only as she was able to match his pace. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know, does it matter?" he snapped, working his way across the great hall, already regretting his rash decision to take her along. What did he have to prove anyway? Nothing concerning Potter.

"Draco slow down!" Pansy panted, trying to catch his hand, "I promise you'll have time to finish your paper." He slowed to a stop, a small scowl crawling across his features as she pet her hands on either side of his waist. He needed drastically to relax, the entire day had left him exhausted. She attempted to push him back against the bookshelf behind him and after a moments resistance Draco let her.

It wasn't that he wanted Pansy, or her body. It wasn't that he even really liked her. It was sheer convenience he supposed. She placed a rather desperate kiss on his neck and he reluctantly let his bag drop from his shoulder to the floor. "Just- be fast Pansy." He did not relish the idea of anyone happening upon them.

Her lips slunk up his neck and to his lips faster than Potter could catch a snitch. He winced at the metaphor and the way Pansy's hands we pulling on his hair. He reached up and yanked them away from his face, pushing them lower towards his pants. Thankfully she took the hint, busying herself with his belt. He closed his eyes and really did lean back against the bookshelf, attempting to banish Potter completely from his mind. The lonely part of the library he had led them to was silent but for the sound of his zipper being undone and his own uneven breathing. Pansy made a sound as she slid to her knees, perhaps to help Draco along which was why Draco did not hear the soft sound of feet on the floor near the entrance.

He bit his lip as Pansy took his erection in her hands and stroking him perhaps harder then was necessary. He pushed up with his hips a little and could not find the friction his body craved. "Pansy?," he tried to pull himself out of her hands, "Use your mouth for fuck's sake."

She did and he pressed his head against the wooden shelf willing the aggression he had felt since the night before to leave him. He was only feet away from the spot he had run into Potter. Fucking Potter and his wandering eyes. He wondered for a second how he would have reacted if Potter had attempted to do to him what Pansy was now doing . He felt himself repress a shiver. Fucking wrong.

"Hermione, please, just let me be."

Draco's eyes snapped open, he heard Pansy gag slightly as he jerked forward. Was he hallucinating?

"Harry, please, just let me say this."

There were footsteps as Potter passed their corner, Granger following him. They walked past the shelf and Draco felt Harry run a hand over the wood of the support he was leaning on. Directly behind him, Harry Potter was leaning on the opposite side of the wall of books. Draco pushed at Pansy's head, mouthing wordless profanities.

Pansy rolled her eyes, pulling on his thigh to bring him back. Breathing heavily and feeling more than a little caught he hissed, "Pansy stop-" Potter leaned against the self and Draco felt the books move. "Fuck!"

Pansy stopped and listened as Draco made to fix his pants. Pansy's hand caught his wrist. "They can't hear us Dray-"

Draco started at her with a mix of barely hidden horror and panic. Behind him Harry sighed. "Hermione, listen, you know I would do anything for you guys right," Hermione sniffled, "It's just things are so different now."

"How are they different?"

"I don't know they just are." Potter voice had dipped to a low bedroom soft. The room around Malfoy suddenly seemed very cold, Draco shivered. He could feel Potter shift nervously as the books he touched pushed into Draco's shoulders. Potter let out a small moan of frustration and Draco realized he was choking back his own moan. The position he was in was dazzlingly perverse. He was quite literally standing a foot a way from Potter with his pants down while Potter seemed to be having a rare and heartfelt argument with Granger. He was surprised to find Pansy's eyes on his face. She seemed to be confused. Draco scowled and pulled her back toward him. She caught his eye for a moment before parting her lips and resuming the motion that had only moments before failed to inspire him to any real degree. He gasped a little as her mouth enclosed around him fully. "I'm just so-"

"What Harry?"

"I dunno, things just feel kind of different lately." Between Pansy's bobbing head and Potter pressing himself into the shelf Draco was biting his lip to keep his breathing from being as loud as it felt. "Like I can't control my-" Draco's fingers dug into the wood. Pansy made a slow wet sound as Draco thrust up a little.

"Control your what Harry? You know we can help you, if you're feeling like you're alone."

Harry breathed out through his nose in agitation, pressing himself back and correspondingly into Draco. His voice dropped even lower, to a near whisper, which was unfortunate because of the sounds that Draco found he was no longer able to smother behind his lips. "Hermione, I love you and Ron. Whatever this is you know it's going to pass." Potters voice was inches from his ear it was rising goosebumps on his skin. He tipped his head back, trying to regain composure. It was his fucking voice. "It's just these N.E.W.T classes and Malfoy and-"

Draco's head snapped back and collided against the wooden rim. "What was that?" Hermione asked and Draco felt his face warm. Or perhaps it already was warm.

Somewhere behind him Potter muttered, "It doesn't matter."

Pansy had paused, Draco pulled hard on her arm and she resumed the tedious process of jerking him off.

"Harry, please. If something's wrong. If Malfoy's done something."

Draco realized he was now actively attempting to hear their conversation. "Malfoy's fine-" Harry sounded as though he were attempting to evade the conversation. Malfoy felt his pulse quicken at the mention of his name, his brain beginning to fail him. He wished Potter would say his name again, he could feel a tightening in his navel. "Malfoy's just- you know Malfoy." He could see Potter speaking in his imagination.

Draco whimpered, pulling a stray lock of Pansy's hair somewhat aggressively. "nyeah just-"

"What was he talking about this morning?"

Harry sighed and shuffled, "I don't even know, It's just."

Malfoy pressed his face into his arm as he came, the sound he made covered up by a scuffling sound on the other side of the books. Hermione and Harry were hugging and Draco couldn't even feel enough of his extremities to mock them. Pansy swallowed and looked up at him, that uncomfortable look was back as Draco slumped a little, panting shallowly.

"Come on Harry, I have my book."

There was sound, Hermione lifted a book out from between all of the others and then footsteps away from them. Pansy was still kneeling. She raised an eyebrow as Draco zipped himself. "That was- um, kind of-"

Draco cut her off, "Get up."

0-0-0

It would have been a harmless dalliance if he could have forgotten about it, but Potter made that nearly impossible. Having ditched Pansy as he checked his books he returned on his way back to the dungeon and realized that beyond the guilt he should feel for allowing his enemies vocal capacity to turn him on to the point of pain, the real harm was that Harry was going to spend the next day staring at him. He tried telling himself it wasn't his fault, after all, hadn't he already been in action before Potter had even shown up? As he lay down to sleep that night he shivered as he thought of the tickling way Potters voice had made his blood rush to his ears. An anger once again curled into his guts like thread. This was what Potter wanted. This was precisely why Potter couldn't take his eyes off of him. Burying his face in his sheets, eyes red with rage and actual shame, Draco shook slightly. He had never hated Potter so much, never needed to win so desperately.


End file.
